


every step that i ran to you

by loganhowlett



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, a gymnastics fic with like. no gymnastics in it, creepy ex boyfriend Rumlow vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loganhowlett/pseuds/loganhowlett
Summary: Steve and the Reader are not friends, but they put up with each other, due to having the same friends and training as gymnasts at the same gym.  As the Olympics make it's way closer and closer, a common enemy might bring them together.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i know....nothing about gymnastics so if i get things wrong that's why....also it's the reason why there isn't a whole lot of gymnastics in this in the first place. it's kind of a background thing but will make it's presence known closer to the Olympics. hope you enjoy!

There’s something about the purple tint of the sky in the early hours of the morning, before the sun has made its presence known for the day, that makes the tedious task of morning jogs a little bit more enjoyable. The world was quiet then, the sky reminiscent of a painting so delicately crafted it seemed as if one could reach up and tear a piece of the canvas off without difficulty. It was moments like these where all your responsibilities melted away, the only sound reverberating in your mind being your sneakers hitting the pavement.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be found jogging in the wee hours of the morning. Being a gymnast had its upkeep. Training for the Olympics made it one hundred times more work.

Another pair of shoes hitting the pavement approached you and you looked over to see Sam Wilson jogging beside you, a sheen of sweat starting to form on his forehead. You were sure you looked about the same.

“Good morning,” he said, matching your pace.

“Morning, Sam.” You replied.

“What could be causing you to be up so early?” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Same reason you are.” You smiled at him.

“Early bird gets the worm.”

“Early bird gets the gold medal.”

Yet another set of shoes colliding with the pavement came to both of your attentions and was soon joined by the feeling of air whooshing against your skin as another runner sped by going much faster than the two of you. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Slow down, Rogers!” Sam shouted. “Give your feet a break!”

“Can’t!” Steve Rogers shouted. “Gotta train to get that gold metal first!”

You huffed at his words, causing another chuckle from Sam as he jogged beside you. Steve, Sam, and you all trained at the same gymnasium, along with others, and most of the occupants had known each other for quite a long time. Most of you were friends. _Most of you_.

Steve and you were never on the best of terms. You didn’t know when the rivalry between the two of you started, but it felt like it had always been there. The two of you were cordial, sure, but there was an underlying tension between the two of you for as long as you could remember. Also, being competitive in nature, you were both determined to win gold at the Olympics before the other.

“I’m going to win that gold before the both of you. You’ll see who the real Olympian is.” Sam said. You laughed, but underneath his jokes and sense of humor, you knew how important winning a medal was to him.

“As long as you win it before him, I’m good.” You skidded to a stop and Sam did the same. The sky was beginning to turn pink as the sun started to make an appearance. “I’m gonna call it quits and get some breakfast. Wanna come?”

“Can’t.” Sam said apologetically. “Gotta make sure Steve’s shoes don’t catch on fire with how fast he’s running.”

“That would definitely hurt his chances of winning before me. Hey, maybe you should come to breakfast with me after all.”

“Ha!” he said sarcastically. “Can’t have him burning his feet. There needs to be a fair fight between the two of you. I wanna see who wins. Really though,” he started, reaching back to rub his shoulder. “would it be so bad if you won silver or bronze and he won gold?”

“No,” you considered. “not if in this particular situation I have already won a gold before. And first.”

Sam laughed again. “You’re a mess.”

“Maybe so. I’ll see you later.” And with that, the two of you split up, Sam off to join Steve, and you to get some pancakes. After the run you had, you deserved it.

“Maybe I chose the wrong sport. Gymnastics is kicking my butt.” You said, sprawled out on the floor of the gym, sweat gleaming on your skin after your warm-up exercises.

“You say that every day.” Sharon said, chuckling as she did her stretches.

“And every day I mean it.”

“Don't be such a drama queen.” Natasha responded. She was sitting a few feet from you, knees propped up and her elbows resting on them.

“Bold judgement coming from someone nicknamed Black Widow.” You said. Natasha rolled her eyes in jest.

“We should give you an alias. Maybe you’d stop being so grouchy.” Sharon said, also in jest.

“I’m not grouchy.” You said defensively.

The blonde laughed, giving you a knowing look. “If you say so.”

“Captain alert.” Natasha said.

By Captain, she meant Steve. Captain America was Steve’s nickname that had been given to him by the gymnastics world, to your annoyance.

You begrudgingly got up to a sitting position to see Steve walking into the gym, Bucky and Sam along with him. He wore a white tank top that showed off his arms and it wasn’t beneath you to stare at them for a few seconds. He might have been annoying, but he did look good doing it.

“Okay.” You conceded, your adversary now being in the same room as you. “I’m grouchy.”

Sharon and Natasha shared a look as you plopped back down onto your back.

“Carter!” Sam’s voice called out. “Romanoff! How’s it going?”

“Good!” The girls said in unison. Sam came and sat with the three of you while Steve and Bucky walked over to talk to the head of the gym and their coach, Nick Fury.

“How was breakfast?” Sam asked you.

“Well deserved.”

“Maybe not as much as Steve’s.” He said, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “He did run a lot more than you.”

“Probably faster too.” Sharon said. “No offense. I think he has superspeed.”

“I know, you guys.” You spread your arms out against the mat. “Captain America is the perfect athlete. I’ve heard it all before.”

“You bet.” An all too familiar voice said from behind you. You contorted to look upwards at Steve from your position on the ground.

“Hello, Captain.” You said, giving him a fake smile. He knew it was fake. Not hostile, but still fake.

“Have a good run this morning?” His question was a mix between teasing and genuine curiosity.

“I had good company. Sam’s a great running partner.”

“I know. He is _my_ running partner after all.” “

Hey, hey, hey.” Sam interrupted. “No need to fight over me. I’m one of a kind, I know.” All of you chuckled lightheartedly at that. He definitely was.

“They don’t call you The Falcon for nothing.” Steve said.

_Alias_ , Sharon mouthed at you. You couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Guys!” You turned your heads to see Bucky jogging towards you. “Fury wants to start.”

Sarcastic cheers arose from the group.

“You gotta be more excited than that.” Fury’s voice called out as he walked towards the group, eliciting ingenuine but more believable sounds of approval from them.

“Yay more exercise!” Steve said sarcastically.

“You could literally do it all day.” Bucky said, shaking his head. “You’ve made it known.” Steve gently swatted him on the head as you all made your way to begin your exercises.

The trek up the stairs to your apartment was a gruesome one, your joints and muscles sore from the workouts and activities you did. You could have taken the elevator, but you needed all the exercise and practice you could get. And plus, Steve Rogers didn’t use the elevator.

After stepping onto the landing, your gym bag fell out of your hands and onto the floor, a few items spilling out.

“Love that for me!” You said sarcastically. You bent down to gather the runaway items up and stuff them back in your bag before throwing it over your shoulder and heading to your door.

Once there, you took out your keys and began to unlock it. The sound of the elevator doors opening alerted you that someone was there, and you looked back, only to clench your jaw at the sight. Steve stepped out of the elevator, keys and bag in hand, proving your point about elevators wrong. Awesome.

If it wasn’t enough that you two were constantly plagued by the tension and adversity that you constantly adorned each other with, you just had to be neighbors. Steve’s apartment was literally the one next to yours. No apartment is perfect.

He chuckled at your expression. “I think you forget I live here sometimes.”

You smiled. “Wish I could.”

He winked at you before unlocking his door and entering his apartment. He popped his head out a second later, however. “You going tonight?”

“Duh. Why?” You tilted your head. “Excited to see me again?”

“Always.” He smirked and then disappeared back into his apartment.

You would have denied it, but you might have smiled a little. A little friendly rivalry was fun sometimes, right? It wasn’t always torture.


	2. Chapter 2

The bar that the group of friends often frequented was packed full of people. That wasn’t a rare occurrence, the service and the drinks were impeccable. Besides, the employees were always happy to welcome in their favorite gymnasts.

“Captain!” The bartender exclaimed as you all sat at your usual spot, a half-circle booth on the back wall near the center of the room, with a few chairs on the straight half. “How are you doing tonight?”

“Doing Great, Jim.” Steve responded from one of the chairs. You and Sharon shared a look. Maybe the staff showed a little bit of favoritism.

“The usuals?” Jim asked, gesturing to the lot of you, eliciting a chorus of “yes’s”.

“Now, Cap,” Sam said. “You may give us all a run, pun intended, for our money when it comes to running, but you better be glad Thor isn’t here. He’d drink you under the table.”

“Yeah, the one thing Steve isn’t number one at.” Bucky said, laughing.

“I have a high tolerance.” Steve shrugged. “No point in drinking that much if it won’t do anything. Not like it tastes that great either.”

Sam stood up from the chair beside Steve, back straight and hand raised to his forehead in a salute. “America’s perfect man, Steven Grant Rogers.”

Steve grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to the chair, though he was laughing with the rest of them. You had to cover your mouth to hide your smile.

“Glad I have you all to keep me humble.”

The attention shifted to the waiter who brought you all your drinks. You got something fruity that you could never remember the name of, yet always got, and you stirred the little black straw through the liquid. The bartender always remembered the name for you, thankfully. Bucky reached over and took Steve’s glass, taking a sip.

“Buck!” Steve protested.

“What?” Bucky said, shrugging his shoulders. “Doesn’t affect you and doesn’t taste good, right?”

Steve snatched his drink back, although lightheartedly. “This one does taste good.”

“ _This one does taste good_.” Bucky mockingly repeated, nudging you on the shoulder.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve asked. He was still laughing.

“The gold medalist’s side.” Bucky said.

“Me.” You and Steve said in unison.

“Gotta go with my girl over here.” Bucky said, leaning away from Steve in a “He’s going to crush me for this” way.

Steve put his hand on his heart. “That hurts, Buck.”

“You know I believe you both have a fair shot.” Bucky conceded, raising his hands up in surrender. “I’m just messing.”

“I think she’s gonna beat you, Rogers.” Natasha spoke up.

“Traitor.”

“What about you, Sharon?” You asked, looking at your friend.

She laughed, raising her hands up like Bucky did. “I’m not getting into this.” Steve looked at her charmingly through his unfairly long eyelashes. Sharon threw a napkin at him. “Don’t give me that look, Rogers. Sam and I will be neutral.”

“Speak for yourself. Steve’s not winning.”

“I hate all of you. I’m Captain America, remember?” Steve crossed his arms. More napkins were thrown at him.

The next few hours were spent with you and your friends talking amongst yourselves at your booth. At some point you’d split up, Sharon, Natasha, and Sam over at the pool table, Bucky desperately trying to figure out the jukebox, and you and Steve on separate ends of the bar. You swirled your straw around the glass of Doctor Pepper you ordered. One alcoholic drink was always enough. You weren’t a fan of being intoxicated, and you were training, after all.

You looked over towards Steve, who was deep in conversation with one of the bartenders. Steve could be shy sometimes, maybe a little reserved, you’d notice, but his people skills could be exceedingly good when they needed to be. Watching your fingers tap against the bar, you didn’t notice his conversation end and him sit a stool over from you.

“Bored?” Steve asked, making you jump. “Sorry.” He responded.

“No,” you sighed. “Just…sitting.”

“You don’t like pool?” he said, inclining his head toward Sharon, Sam, and Natasha.

“Never been the best at it.” You admitted.

“Me either.”

“You?” you asked incredulously. “You’re not good at something?”

Steve laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “I guess we have now established that I’m no good at drinking or playing pool.”

“And doing gymnaaaastiiiiiics.” You added under your breath but loud enough for him to hear.

Steve nearly snorted. “You wish.”

“Can somebody help me with this stupid thing?” Bucky called out from his place at the jukebox.

“After this game!” Natasha responded from the pool table.

“And Bucky’s no good with the jukebox, apparently.” You said.

“Maybe I should go save him.”

You chuckled as you looked around the bar, but your smile disappeared as you saw who was walking through the door. Brock Rumlow. Big jerk. Big ego. Happened to be your ex-boyfriend. Happened to still be obsessed with you.

“You gotta be kidding me.” You groaned.

Steve followed your line of sight and looked back towards you. “What? Rumlow?”

“Steve, I need you to pretend to be my date.” You said it so fast and with such urgency, barely even realizing you were saying it.

“What?” Steve looked dumbfounded.

“He’s messed up. He won’t leave me alone unless I’m here with someone. Like, _here_ , here with someone.” You whispered, heart starting to beat unnervingly fast.

Steve looked at you for a few seconds and you were sure he was going to say no. “Okay.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yeah.”

You hopped down from the stool, Steve doing the same. You looked over towards Rumlow, who had taken notice of you. A nervous breath blew out of your mouth.

“It’s okay.” Steve reassured you.

Rumlow made his way over to the two of you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He said. His eyes were menacing.

You put on a fake smile. “Here at my favorite bar? Bit of a no brainer.”

“There’s that sense of humor.” He responded. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. He inclined his head towards Steve. “Cap.”

“Rumlow.” He said, voice serious and chin sticking upwards. Steve and Rumlow had never gotten along themselves. Rumlow’s team, Hydra, was constantly making trouble with them.

“Here for the wings? Or does Captain America’s diet not that?”

“Actually,” you cut in. “He’s here with me.”

“What? Some kind of gymnastics meeting?”

“Well,” Steve said. “The team’s all here, but we’re…” he tentatively put his arm around your shoulders. “ _here_ , here”. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing as he repeated your earlier statement.

“You?” Rumlow looked at him incredulously. “With her? You can’t stand each other.”

“We’ve…” you put your hand up. “had our differences…but we found common ground.”

“And what’s that?” Rumlow asked.

“That our trivial rivalry was just a…cover for how we really felt.” Steve squeezed your shoulder gently and rocked you slightly for emphasis.

“So what? You’re head over heels all of a sudden?”

“We’re taking things slow.” You said.

Rumlow laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Well I guess Cap got the perfect girl to go with his perfect gymnastics career.” You looked at Steve, who gritted his teeth together. Turns out your real common ground was your disdain for Brock Rumlow.

“It sure was good talking to you.” Steve said emptily. “We better go sit down.” He put his arm behind your back like a real date would do, leading you towards your empty booth. You didn’t look back to see how Rumlow stared at the two of you.

When you both sat down, Steve placed his hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. “You owe me one.”

You breathed out. “I know. Thank you. I’m sorry, I just…I can’t deal with him stalking me all night.”

“Is he that bad?” Steve asked, genuine concern on his face. You might bicker with him all the time, but you knew that he was a good man. Annoyingly good, but good.

“Yeah.” Your hands were placed on the table, shaking. Steve noticed and put his hand on yours.

“It’s okay.” He said again. His voice was so soft. You couldn’t help but look at his eyes, how they looked at you with more care for you than you’d ever noticed from him. You had to look away and your eyes landed on Rumlow, seated at one of the tables with his eyes glued to the two of you.

“He’s looking.” You whispered. “We need to sit closer.” You scooted closer to him, your body pressed against his side. His hands were still holding yours. You felt something swirl in your chest, but you narrowed it down to either being from too much soda, or nerves from Rumlow.

Natasha, over at the pool table, saw the two of you huddled together. She was genuinely confused for a second before she saw your nervous demeanor and found the culprit sitting at a table within sight of you and Steve’s booth.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing Sharon and Sam’s attention. “I think we should all head out.”

“But the jukebox…” Bucky protested.

“Your music taste is questionable. We’re doing the patrons a favor.”

A few seconds later, you heard her voice right in front of you.

“We should go.”

You and Steve both startled at the sound of her voice, separating slightly as his hand moved from yours to the table.

“I think you’re right.” Your tone was thankful.

And without another word, you and Steve stood from the booth, followed Natasha towards the rest of the group, and you were all outside the bar. People tended to listen when Natasha told them to do something.

Before long, you and Steve were in front of your apartment door.

“Thank you again.” You said, grabbing your door handle for something to do. “I mean it.”

“It’s okay.”

“And I do owe you one.”

He waved his hand. “You really don’t.”

“I really do.”

“Well,” he considered. “You could lessen your practice for the Olympics.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if.”

“Worth a shot.” He said. His eyes softened. “Don’t worry about owing me one. I’d be a jerk if I didn’t help you out back there.”

The words took you aback. It's not like Steve wasn't considerate or nice, but you weren't used to him aiming this amount of it at you.

“It was definitely one of your less jerky moments.” You said.

His demeanor turned into a playful one once again. “That’s the closest to a compliment you’ve ever given me. Well, you did say I was the perfect athlete.”

“Sarcastically.”

He raised his eyebrows up once, smiling. “Have a good night.”

And with that, the two of you went into your apartments. You locked the door behind you with a little more force than usual. Now that you were alone, the nervousness came back. When you settled down for the night, you were reassured by the fact that Steve was just behind the wall of your living room, a thought that hadn’t brought you comfort in your year or so of being neighbors until that moment.


	3. Chapter 3

You didn’t get up when the sky was purple this time, but it was still early. You tried running your usual course but didn’t have it in you to do the whole thing. Sitting on a park bench was a much better option and so you plopped down on one, leaning your head back as the breeze hit your skin.

“When I said to lessen your training,” you heard, seeing Steve come to a stop from his run in front of you, “I was just joking.”

“I’m not feeling it today.” You admitted.

“Is this about last night?” he asked. There was that concern in his voice again.

“It’s ridiculous. I know.” You fidgeted with your hands, not making eye contact.

“It’s not.” He said. You did make eye contact this time.

“Hey!” Sam called out as he ran up to you and Steve. “Y’all are off your game!” He continued running past you.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“If you want to feel better, think of all the insults you all threw at me last night.” He said. You smiled more. “There you go.”

There was a pause where neither of you said anything. You were looking at his hands, which were placed on his hips. Eye contact felt intimidating at the moment.

“Well, I’m gonna keep running. Don’t sit here too long. A birds gonna crap on you.”

You rolled your eyes as he turned around and took off.

The feeling of Steve’s fists hitting the punching bag was a familiar one. He could always rely on a big bag of sand to hang there idly, letting him land punch after punch. He swung, his fist hitting the bag a little too hard. Withdrawing his hand back, he shook it to distract himself from the tingling pain.

“What did that bag ever do to you?” Sam asked as he did sit ups on the floor.

“Nothin’” Steve emotionlessly responded, resuming the rhythmic pit, pat of his fists against the bag.

Sam pulled himself from the floor and stood next to Steve, watching him with concern as he landed punch after punch. “Is this about last night?”

The punches stopped. “What?” Steve looked like he’d been caught red handed doing something indecent.

“I have eyes, Rogers.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “You and Y/N looked pretty chummy.”

“She was upset.” Steve wiped his hand across his forehead to remove the hair that was stuck there from the sweat.

“Upset?” Sam echoed.

“Rumlow was there.”

That seemed to answer the question a little, but Sam still looked confused. “They dated right?”

Steve nodded his head, unwrapping the gauze from his hands. “She said he’s messed up, acted real scared of him, which checks out. I’ve never liked the guy.”

“So, she was upset, and you were typical Steve Rogers, consoling a person in need, is that all?”

Steve’s hands went to his hips, his fingers tapping anxiously. “She asked me to pretend to be her date.”

Sam looked taken aback. “Wow.”

“Him being there really freaked her out. She thought he’d leave her alone if she was there with someone, which he did. She’s smart.” He pressed his lips together. That last one kind of slipped out.

“I guess that explains why Nat shooed us out of there like there was a gas leak.”

Steve lips turned upwards into a subtle smile.

“Bucky never got to play a song on the jukebox.” Sam said.

This time, his smile showed teeth. “Looks like we can add Bucky versus jukebox to the list of rivalries we’ve got going on here.”

“My money’s on the jukebox.” Sam said lightheartedly, before turning serious. “That was nice of you, what you did for her.”

Steve lowered his head at the compliment, staring at the floor.

“Looks like someone has a soft spot.”

Steve’s head shot up, but Sam was already turning and walking away. “Soft sp-? Sam.” Sam didn’t respond, just turned and smiled at Steve. “Sam!”

You, Sharon, and Natasha sat in your living room, a random show playing softly on the TV as the three of you talked to each other. Natasha was seated in one of your comfortable chairs while you and Sharon sat on your couch. The subject of Steve, the bar, and Rumlow, had been brought up by Natasha.

“So that’s why you made us all leave.” Sharon said, placing a pillow in her lap. “I should have realized as soon as I saw him walk in that it was probably time to go.”

“At least you didn’t convince Steve to pretend to be your date.” You mentioned.

“An interesting choice.” Natasha chimed in.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Well, you could have asked Sam or Bucky.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Steve was right next to me.”

“Still,” Natasha shrugged hers in return. “You could have gone over to the pool table.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.” You’d seen Rumlow and a sense of panic arose inside your head.

“I’m not surprised he agreed, though.” Natasha said.

“Really? Why not?”

Sharon and Nat shared a look at your question. Before you could ask again, a burst of music sounded from the other side of the wall. You automatically groaned. Steve loved to play music, but not just any music that a typical neighbor would play at inopportune times. He insisted on constantly listening to old fashioned music. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so irritating if he’d listen to pop or something like anyone else.

“The walls of this building are way too thin.” You mumbled into the throw pillow that you shoved your face into.

“You can barely hear it, stop being dramatic.” Natasha threw her own pillow at your head right as you sat up. Sharon put the back of her hand over her mouth, hardly trying to cover her laughter.

“Ow!” You rubbed your head. Natasha had a good arm.

“I think you owe him some annoying neighbor music.” Sharon said. “Prince Charming did pull through for you last night.”

 _Don’t worry about owing me one. I’d be a jerk if I didn’t help you out back there_. Steve’s words rang in your head.

Sharon’s tone turned softer. “You’ve been kind of freaked out all day. Do you want us to stay here tonight?”

Nat chimed in. “We could tell embarrassing stories about Steve. I’ve got a lot of them.” Sharon gave her a pointed finger gesture that silently said _Yeah, good idea_.

You smiled at your friends attempt to lighten your mood. “No, it’s okay. I can handle things on my own.”

“Our brave lone wolf.” Natasha joked, but the concerned look stayed plastered on her face.

Sharon’s eyebrow raised as she looked at you. “Alias.”

You laughed. “I’m not naming myself Lone Wolf.”

When Nat and Sharon left for the night, you sprawled out on the couch in exhaustion. Steve’s music was still playing in his apartment, the tune light and soft, void of lyrics with only instrumentals, and the usual annoyance you felt at his music was for the moment replaced with a feeling of calm. You were lying there for a while before you noticed the silence, the apartment empty of sound except for your breathing. The feelings of anxiety you’d felt since the previous night crept back to your attention once again.

As you tossed and turned on the couch, you thought that maybe it would have been better if Natasha and Sharon had stayed, and for the second night in a row you found yourself comforted by the presence of Steve just a room away from you.

When you walked out of your apartment door for your daily run, Steve was doing the same. You usually didn’t leave at the same time, either a little earlier or later than him. Seeing him in his running clothes without a hint of sweat on him was a different view than you were used to.

“Mornin’” he greeted you, locking his door.

“Good morning.” You responded, mirroring his actions on your own door. You wordlessly walked with him into the elevator, the doors shutting together with a clank. The silence between you two in the small elevator felt awkward so you reached to adjust your ponytail to give you something to do until the doors reopened and the two of you were walking into the small lobby of the apartment complex.

“Do you ever get sick of running all the time?” Steve said it so abruptly that it startled you, but you didn’t show it outwardly.

“Sometimes.” You said.

“Well…” Steve started.

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What?”

“Let’s not run today.” He said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

“Those sound like quitting words, Captain.”

He laughed. “You wish they were. But seriously, we can just skip running today.”

“We,” you said. “are not doing anything. I am going for a run.”

“Come on,” Steve said, “have fun for just one second. There’s that 24-hour pizza place a few blocks away.”

“Pizza? At 6 a.m.?”

“I think our rigorous training the past year has earned us a 6 a.m. pizza.” He said, raising his eyebrow in amusement.

Your stomach was feeling like it wanted to eat itself. You usually ate something before you left for your run, but you hadn’t today. “I’ll tell you what. One lap around the park, and we can get pizza. How’s that?”

“Sounds like a plan.” One lap around the park later, you were walking into the doors of the pizza place. Once your order was placed, you sat in one of the booths, sitting on opposite sides. You played with your hands awkwardly. It wasn’t often that Steve and you hung out without any of your other friends. You wished Sam had joined you.

“Are you, um-“ Steve said, “are you feeling better? I’ve been kinda worried.”

“You’ve been worried?” You asked, raising your brow at him. He nodded his head. You tapped your fingers lightly along the table. “I’ve been feeling anxious.”

“About Rumlow?”

You nodded your head. You took a deep breath before talking. “It’s hard to sleep. He just makes me feel this…weird fear, I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” He said. And you could tell that he meant it.

“I don’t feel safe.” You don’t know why you were telling him these things, but the words came out easily in his presence.

“I’m right next door. If you ever feel scared, you just have to knock.” The sincerity in his voice was something that you were not used to. It was such a stark difference to the banter and the sarcasm that always flowed between the two of you.

“You don’t have to feel like you have to be my…my therapist or something. It’s not your burden.”

“It shouldn’t be your burden either. It’s not fair that you have to feel this way.” He sounded almost mad, not at you, but at Rumlow, you were guessing.

You were looking down at the table, avoiding his intense eyes as the waiter brought you your pizzas.

“Hey, at least my game has been thrown off. That’s a plus for you with the Olympics coming up, right?” You tried to lighten the mood.

“Your safety’s more important than a competition.” The finality in his voice made you look at him directly in the eye. You felt your chest tighten.

“Don’t tell anyone I said this…” you leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice to a whisper, “but you can be a really good guy sometimes.”

The intensity in his stare lightened, a glint of something sparkling in his eyes at your words. “Next time you say something nice about me, give me a heads up so I can record it.” His remark made you laugh, the iron grip the anxiety had had on you loosening if only for a moment in the middle of a pizza place atsix in the morning with your rival, your opponent, your adversary, maybe, just maybe, even your friend.


	4. Chapter 4

It was raining outside, the drops hitting the window as you sat next to it, staring at the water cascading from the clouds above. A cup of hot tea was in your hands, the sleeves of your sweater covering your hands to put a barrier between your skin and the heat. It was later in the day, around six, and the clouds barely allowed the sun to peak through and cast light upon the city. You sat your cup down on the table and curled your knees up, wrapping your arms around your legs. You let your eyes close, listening to the sound of the rain outside and the distant shouting of people running to their destinations while trying to avoid getting soaked. You’d have been content to stay like that for a while, but a knock on your door got your attention.

Reluctantly, you got up from your cozy seat by the window and headed for your door. You wondered if Nat or Sharon decided to stop by, or maybe it was Steve asking for a neighborly favor. When you opened the door, you were perplexed to see that no one was there. Maybe someone had gotten the wrong apartment and quickly left. You would have closed the door if something on the ground hadn’t caught your eye.

A box laid on the floor, one of those fancy looking ones you’d get from a bakery. Bending down to pick it up, you opened it to see that it was filled with your favorite cookies and a folded piece of paper. You unfolded the paper to see the words “ _Remember our first date?”_ written in pen.

There it was again, that crippling feeling of anxiety that had been hovering over you the past few days since you were reacquainted with Rumlow. Without thinking, you stepped over to Steve’s door and started banging your fist against the wood. It only took a few seconds before the door swung open.

He looked alarmed, his brow scrunched in confusion as he took you in before him, standing there wide-eyed with a basket of cookies. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Rumlow was just here.” You said quickly, hands tightening around the box in your grip.

His expression grew even more concerned. “What? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” you reassured him. “he left these at my door.” You held the box towards him.

“What is it?”

“Cookies.”

“Cookies?”

You nodded your head.

“Why would he leave you cookies?” He looked bewildered.

“He left a note too.” You opened the box and handed him the piece of paper. He read it out loud. “They’re my favorite kind. We had them on our first date.” It wasn’t something you wanted to dwell on.

“So, he’s showing up at your apartment and giving you gifts now? What, is he trying to win you back or something?”

You let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t know! Unless he sent one of his creepy friends to do it for him. I…I know it seems ridiculous that I’m getting upset over cookies, but I don’t know, I just-“ you couldn’t form a coherent sentence, your words jumbling over each other.

“Hey,” he said, that stupid and endearing look of concern on his face. “it’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Look,” he turned away and walked into his apartment for a second, you heard a thump, and then he was back. “They’re gone. I threw them away. No more cookies, see? You’re okay.”

You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you just looked at him, thankful for his sense of calm in your storm of fear and anxiety.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, breaking the silence. You continued to stare at him, mouth slightly agape. You’d never expected to be invited inside of his apartment.

“No.” You said quietly. You almost wanted to say yes. “I’ll just…go back and um…make dinner…try to get my mind off it.” Then you quickly said, “Thank you. Really.” He nodded his head, and you wondered if you were just making up the look of slight disappointment that flashed across his face.

He quickly replaced the maybe/maybe not make belief look on his face with a small smile. “Well, if you need anything,”

“I just have to knock.” You, not impolitely, cut him off, repeating his words from your pizza breakfast the other day.

He smiled again, and then you were back in your apartment, door locked behind you as you made your way to the kitchen to make some food and get your mind off the whole situation.

And your mind was off the unwelcome gift for a while, for the most part, as you made yourself some pasta, heating up some store-bought sauce and slathering it over the noodles. The distraction didn’t last long. You found yourself on your couch, the TV blasting some random show you’d turned to, your mind not paying attention to it and instead thinking of the fact that Rumlow, if he was the one to do it himself, was right outside your door only a few hours before.

You thought about Steve’s offer for you to come into his apartment. You didn’t know why, but the thought of going into his apartment made you nervous, not necessarily in a bad way, but you’d feel more comfortable staying in your own apartment. The problem was that you didn’t want to be alone. You thought that maybe you could ask Natasha or Sharon to come over, but quickly decided against it. They didn’t know the extent that you were affected by all of this, and you didn’t want to make them any more worried than they already were.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed your phone, typing in a text that said, “ _Come over_?”.

It wasn’t long before an answer dinged back reading, “Be right there.” You took in a deep breath and let it out as you put your phone down. A minute later, a knock sounded at your door, and you opened it to see Steve standing there with a paper bag in his hands.

“I had some ice cream that I bought recently.” He said, holding the bag up. “Thought it would be inappropriate to bring cookies.”

You laughed at that, laying your head against the doorway. He laughed lightly, a slight look of nervousness worrying his features. “Come in.” you said. He walked into your apartment and you closed the door, turning to see him at your kitchen island taking two tubs of ice cream out of the bag.

“Okay,” he started, pointing to one of the tubs. “so, I have Cookie’s N’ Creme and Heath Bar. I don’t know if you like those, but it’s what I had.”

You smiled, walking to the island and putting your hands against the cool surface. “I actually love both of those.”

“Great minds think alike, then.”

You laughed again and got the two of you bowls and spoons, a feeling of warmth forming in your stomach. You never would have guessed that the presence of Steve Rogers being anywhere near you would make you feel so content. Both of you sat on a stool, helping yourself to the tubs of ice cream, filling your bowls with an amount that would have made someone second guess that you were professional gymnasts getting ready for the Olympics.

He told you stories about his hijinks with Sam and Bucky while you ate, and you had to hold your stomach from how hard you were laughing. The three of them were a dangerous trio. You were thankful for this reprieve from the stress you’d been feeling lately and made sure to voice it out loud.

“I’m…” you started, fidgeting with your spoon. “I’m really grateful that you’ve been so kind to me. I know we’re not the best of friends, but you’ve been there for me as if I haven’t been a total jerk to you for years.”

“You’re not a jerk.” He said, looking down at the counter.

“A little bit?” you said, putting your fingers together so that there was a bit of space between them.

He laughed at that. “Maybe a little, but I have had my fair share of bad moments.”

“Even your bad moments are good moments.” You mumbled, but he still heard, tilting his head to the side inquisitively. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Even throughout all the bickering and banter that you’ve thrown at each other, there was always a layer of something underneath Steve’s remarks, something that sometimes seemed like they came from a place of respect. When you thought about it, you were probably the same towards him. There were people that you liked less than Steve. He wasn’t at the bottom of the barrel, and lately it seemed like he was climbing closer to the top.

Steve stuck his hand out towards you then, and you looked at it curiously. “Friends?” he asked.

You smiled at him, a genuine smile, very much unlike the ones you’d given him in the past. It seems like your smiles towards him have gotten more real lately. Taking his hand in yours and giving it a shake, you said, “Friends.”

Steve and you had stayed at the kitchen island for a while, talking and filling yourselves up on ice cream until the party moved over to the couch where you watched TV and sat in a comfortable silence with each other. Eventually, you’d lied down, scrunching your legs up because Steve took up one of the cushions, and fallen asleep.

You were knocked out. Steve wondered how much everything had been affecting your sleep. You looked content now, the worries concerning Rumlow silenced, hopefully, for at least a little while as you dreamed. Or maybe you weren’t dreaming. Either way, Steve was happy to see that your face was relaxed and without lines of worry.

He stayed there for a little while, watching TV, until he felt his eyes begin to grow heavier and heavier. He turned the TV off and stood up, looking down at you. It didn’t seem right to just leave you there on the couch. Gently, he leaned over and put his arm under your back and your knees, scooping you up bridal style. You stirred for a second but were otherwise unbothered. He assumed the open door to the right of the couch was your bedroom and slowly walked the two of you inside, placing you on your bed with care and putting the comforter over you. When he left your room, he left the door cracked open slightly.

Steve was going to head back to his apartment but thought against it. Maybe he should stay here in case you needed him, or if someone showed up, or if you woke up alone in the middle of the night and got scared. He wasn’t trying to assume he was your sole source of comfort in times of trouble, but he was there at that moment, and decided to stay in case he was needed.

There was a blanket draped over the back of the couch, so he took off his shoes and lied down, putting one of the throw pillows under his head, and wrapped himself in the warm fabric of the blanket. He was a little longer than the couch, so he had to curl his legs a little, but he’d make it work.

He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like forever until he finally drifted into some kind of sleep, the cushions, slightly uneven underneath him, not letting him fall completely under for a few hours until he finally was sound asleep.

You awoke to a warm comforter surrounding you, your soft mattress pressed down underneath you slightly from your weight. Automatically, you were confused, not remembering falling asleep there the night before. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked into the living room. You almost didn’t see Steve fast asleep on your couch, one leg hanging off and one arm resting upwards on the back of the couch.

He must have stayed in your apartment through the night. You smiled at him. He didn’t have to do that. Though the thought that he was there the whole night brought you comfort. It was different than him being in the apartment next door; it seemed more personal.

 _He looks cute_. You couldn’t help thinking it. There’s something so endearing about seeing someone when they were asleep, the rise and fall of their chest, the slight fluttering of their eyes under their eyelids as they dreamed. His hair looked messy and you felt yourself longing to reach out and smooth the sandy blond strands back into place.

You looked at the clock. It was a little past nine in the morning, much later than you both usually woke up. You were grateful for the extended hours of sleep that you got after the rough sleep you had for the past couple of weeks. Concern for Steve, though, welled up in you suddenly. He must still be asleep because it took him a long time to get to that point. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on, especially when it was smaller than you.

You were going to wake him up, but decided to let him sleep some more, not knowing how much sleep he had gotten in the first place. You owed him some solid sleep if he felt the need to stay here on your lumpy couch to make you feel better. As you quietly dug through your cabinets to find something small for breakfast, you had to hold back a laugh. You thought about what Natasha or Sharon would say if they walked in right now. They’d be confused, that’s for sure, maybe even a little bit suspicious. Not often would they walk in and find a man in your apartment, especially Steve, and by not often, that meant never.

“Hey.” You heard, almost slamming the cabinet in surprise. Steve was sitting up on the couch now, blanket still covering his lap.

“Hey.” You breathed out a nervous laugh. “Did I wake you?”

Steve shook his head. “Nah. I was already pretty much awake.”

“Didn’t look too awake about a minute ago.”

“Yeah, but if you knew that then you wouldn’t have stood there and stared at me.” His sleepy smile was playful. You wanted to throw something at him. If your face felt hot, which it didn’t, it was because you were annoyed. Kind of annoyed. Or not annoyed at all.

Witty comebacks were the way to go. “Like you must have stared at me before scooping me up and taking me to bed- I mean not taking me to- you put me- I’m assuming I didn’t sleepwalk to…” Maybe you weren’t as witty as you thought.

He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. No, he was definitely annoying.

“Now you could say something instead of sitting there laughing at me. Bring nice Steve back for a second.”

He kept that smug smile on his face. “I’m always nice.”

You made a face at him, causing him to laugh. It was stupid and infectious and this time it was your turn to press your lips together to keep from laughing.

“Um,” you started, and Steve settled down to look at you expectantly, but not impatiently. “you didn’t have to stay here, you know. I’m sure your own bed would have treated you better than my couch. But um…thank you, though.”

His face grew more serious as you spoke, still with a hint of the gentle playfulness from before. “I wanted to.”

You didn’t know how to respond, just looked down at your hands that were placed on the kitchen counter. Humor would do. “Well, I guess we can cross off sleepover from our newly-friends to-do-list.”

“No, no, no. You haven’t seen a sleepover yet. That was nothing!” He stood up from the couch. “Horrible movies and take out are required.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you walked towards him. “You sound like you’re nine.”

“Never said I was mature.”

“You got that right.”

You were standing in front of him now. A regular distance. So why did it feel so personal?

He’d come over when you needed him, brought you ice cream, sat with you, carried you to your room, and stayed on your couch all to make you feel better. You felt emotions that you couldn’t place swell up inside of you. Gratitude? That was reasonable. You were definitely grateful that he did those things for you. For you, someone he’d never truly gotten along with, that is, until recently.

“Steve…” you said, not knowing what to say next.

His voice was soft, his eyes sharing the same sentiment. “Yeah?”

Something overcame you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug, his hair tickling your face. Slowly, as if confused as to what was happening, he placed his hands on your back. Then they were wrapped around you, supporting you in the hug.

“Thank you.” You whispered. You felt him shake his head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

You didn’t want to let go, but you slowly pulled away, looking up at him with your hands on his arms like they weren’t ready to break contact yet. His hands were on the small of your back now and you felt like they were the only things keeping you upright. Neither of you made any effort to move. You didn’t hear the lock in the door of your apartment shifting, but when the door opened, you turned your head to see Natasha in the doorway, spare key in her hand, who only took a moment to notice you and Steve standing there, your hands on his arms and his on your back in the remnants of your hug.

She looked confused for only a second, her expression changing to a smirk. “Well, hello.”

When Steve had left to go back to his apartment, awkwardly putting his shoes back on and folding the blanket back up, Natasha managed to make a face of impassiveness, watching as he murmured a goodbye and closed your door behind him. As soon as the door clicked shut, she turned her head towards you.

“Explain.” She said.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “He slept on the couch.”

“I know that.” Natasha said. “But why was Steve on your couch?”

“To sleep on it.”

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut, but you didn’t miss the smile hidden behind her hand.

“It wasn’t a hook up, if that’s what you were thinking.” You said pointedly.

She raised her hands up in defense. “I didn’t say that.”

“Things are just…” you plopped down on the couch. “complicated.” At her raised eyebrow, you rushed to explain. “It’s not like that. He just…” You wanted to talk about all your worries about Rumlow but didn’t want to burden anyone else with it. You’d already dragged Steve down with you in all of this. “We’re friends now.”

“You and Steve?” she said, looking at you in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Rogers?”

“No, Buscemi.”

Natasha chuckled, but then a look of concern took over. “Because of the whole Rumlow thing?”

You nodded your head. “He was here yesterday.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. “He was what?”

“He left a gift for me. I got freaked out, asked Steve to come over, and he slept on the couch because he was worried.”

Natasha gritted her teeth together. “Does Rumlow have memory loss? Because I’m pretty sure he knows that I can beat him to a pulp if he messes with you.”

You smiled. “I know you could, Black Widow.”

“Captain America could too.” She smirked.

“What’s that face for?” You asked.

Now she was smiling. “I always knew he had a soft spot for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how many months has it been since i updated this? oof! i haven't really written anymore for this but i have a lot that i HAVE written that hasn't been posted so i'm gonna keep posting that and see if i regain any inspiration for this fic!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i have a lot of this fic written so i think i'm just gonna post all the chapters at the same time and if people like it then i'll end up finishing the fic, though i think i'll end up finishing it anyway.

Steve swiped his finger across the screen of his phone, ending the call with Bucky. He’d asked Bucky if he wanted to go to the carnival that was being thrown nearby, but he was busy, as was Sam. The thought of asking you crossed his mind, but he wasn’t sure. He was starting to worry that he was annoying you from being around so much, which he knew was ridiculous, being that you’d been the one to initiate contact most of the time.

Shaking his head at himself, he clicked on your contact and started typing the message.

_There’s a carnival about a half hour from here tonight. Wanna go?_

He put his phone down on the table and tapped his fingers against his legs. He wasn’t sure why he felt nervous, but he did. When the phone dinged, he was embarrassed how quickly he picked it up to see what was on the screen.

_Can’t tonight. Training._

He blew a frustrated puff of air out. He didn’t want to go alone. Maybe he’d just go punch some sandbags instead. He was getting up to get a change of clothes and bandages for his hands when his phone dinged again.

Your response was,

_Actually…that sounds fun. Forget training._

Steve couldn’t help but smile at his phone. The two of you really were the absolute worst athletes on the planet. At this rate, neither of you were going to win gold.

He texted back for you to meet him outside your rooms within the next hour or so.

Tossing his phone down after getting your reply, he then noticed his painfully boring outfit – jeans and a white t-shirt.

“I gotta change.” He muttered to himself.

And that’s how he ended up in his bedroom, tripping over a shoe he’d left on the floor and almost falling face first as he pulled a failed attempt at a change of shirt over his head. He tossed it to the side and changed into a blue and green plaid button-up, tucking it into the same jeans he was wearing earlier. A grayish blue jacket that he’d discarded over his desk chair about ten minutes before caught his eye, and he quickly put it on.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he made a face of approval. Turning around to look at the mess on the floor, however, he grimaced. He’d have to clean it up before the carnival.

That plan was thrown out the window when he heard a knock coming from the door outside.

He whipped his head in the direction of the sound. He thought he had more time, but he must have taken longer to get dressed than he thought. Muttering to himself, he flailed around in an awkward attempt at deciding if he was going to pick up his mess or not before quickly walking to the apartment door.

When he opened it, your hand was raised in mid-knock, and you were quick to bring your hand back down.

He leaned against the doorway a little too harshly, the wood jabbing his shoulder. He crossed his arms in what had to be the most pathetic attempt at trying to look cool and unbothered there had ever been. What was wrong with him? It didn’t help that you were pressing your lips together to hold your laughter back.

“Hi.” You said. It almost sounded like a question as you watched him adjust his position against the doorframe.

“Hey.”

You nearly snorted. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” He jerked his head upwards in a nod. If he could act normal that would be great. “Are you?”

You gestured down at yourself, drawing attention to your jeans and your thin sweater with thick stripes of purplish-red and creamy white. A jacket was hanging over your arm. “Think so.”

He finally pried himself from the doorframe. “Let’s go.”

The warm, inviting feeling of yellowish-white lights strung up from posts and the smell of cotton candy brought Steve back to his childhood. You walked beside him, the content smile on your face showing that you felt the same. It had taken a little over thirty minutes to get to the carnival, which really wasn’t that long. Steve was just happy he had decided on an outfit before the carnival shut down for the night.

The sound of joyful screaming came from one of the rides nearby and Steve chuckled as a memory resurfaced.

You tilted your head, brow furrowing in amused curiosity. “What?”

“When we were younger, Bucky and I went on a rollercoaster and well…I didn’t handle it well.”

“You threw up?”

He nodded. “I threw up.”

She laughed. “That’s so weird. I see you flipping and bouncing around all the time now, and you don’t throw up.”

“I was smaller back then.” He found the words coming out without thinking about it. “Couldn’t handle stuff like that.” At your curious look, he kept on. “I was sick a lot when I was younger. Doing gymnastics actually got me stronger and healthier.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Steve shrugged. “The only one that really knows is Bucky. That’s cause he was there.”

You pressed your lips together, brow still furrowed but now in a look of concern. “You don’t talk about your past a lot, do you?”

“It’s not something I want to dwell on, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.” You said.

He shrugged again. “It’s okay. Besides, I had Bucky.”

“And now you have Sam,” you added. “and Sharon, and Natasha, and-“

“And you.” Steve finished.

You looked at him, eyes alight with an emotion that he couldn’t place. Your gaze lingered for a few seconds before reverting to your feet as the two of you slowly made your way through mazes of game-stands and carnival goers.

“Yeah.” Nudging his shoulder with your own, you said, “And I guess _I_ have you, huh?”

He chuckled. “Honestly, I’m only using you to get out of the apartment tonight. I’m having a terrible time already.” 

He winced, smiling as you pushed against him playfully. You were smiling at him with an underlying look of annoyance that somehow came off looking like fondness. He liked your smile. And he did like being with you. He was about to voice it out loud too, when a group of kids ran in between them, shouting about the ride they were running to and nearly knocking the two of you over. Steve stumbled backwards but managed to catch himself.

You put your hand on your mouth, practically cackling, as Steve stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you said, waving your hand like you were trying to rid yourself of your laughter, “but seeing _Captain America_ , professional gymnast, nearly getting plowed over by a bunch of kids is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve’s bewildered expression finally cracked, and he joined in on the laughter – the laughter that was aimed at him. “Sam would never let me forget this.”

You held your stomach, still laughing. “They gotta have surveillance cameras here, right? I need to go find out where to get that footage…”

“Ha, ha, you are so funny.” Steve said. “Let’s just…let’s go on a ride or something.”

“No rollercoasters, of course.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

He forced himself to hold back his laughter.

“Wanna be amazingly committed and healthy athletes and get a big, sugary funnel cake?” You asked Steve when you took notice of a stand that was selling snacks including caramel apples, fried Oreos, and various types of funnel cakes. First you had bailed on training, now you were at a carnival filled with sweets and greasy foods. What an Olympian you were.

“What kind of question is that?” Steve said in mock incredulousness. “Of course, I want one.”

You laughed. “Great. I’ll get us two.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “I’ll buy it.”

You placed a hand on your hip. “You payed for the pizza. I’ll pay for the funnel cakes.”

He gave one of those smirks that you used to find annoying, you still kind of do, by the way, but it was kind of charming. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Jerk.” You scoffed. He responded with a smile that crinkled his eyes in the corners in an agonizingly endearing way. He was still annoying, though. A little.

You walked up to the stand. “Can I have two funnel cakes please?”

“Two?” she asked. “They’re very big. If you’re both getting one, you might wanna split it. Here, look at the size.” She gestured to one of the other workers who was carrying a funnel cake that he was about to give to the people standing at the other opening. He heard her, leaning the dessert forward a little so that you could see it.

“I don’t know if I’ll eat all that…” you said, turning your head to the side at the sight of the cake, before the man took it to his customers. You turned to Steve. “What about you?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m fine with sharing.”

“Okay,” you said, looking at the woman. “We’ll get one.”

“What would you like on it?”

“What kind of toppings do you like?” You asked Steve.

“Ummm…” He looked like he was thinking about it as he stared at the options on the stand. “Chocolate syrup and powdered sugar, if you’re okay with it.”

You nodded. “I’m more than okay with it.”

“Will that be all?” she asked you. You nodded your head.

After you’d paid and gotten your beautifully golden brown, powdered sugar and chocolate covered funnel cake, you and Steve sat down on the brick edge of where some plants were, putting the dessert between you.

“Thank you.” He said.

“I should be thanking you. You invited me. You’re the reason I’m here eating this pile of sugar.”

“Well then, you’re welcome.”

You did one of those laughs that was just a huff of air out of your nose.

At the same time, you and Steve ripped off a piece of the cake and tried it. Steve made a noise of approval as he threw his head back, leaning dramatically until he was almost lying down, before quickly rising back up.

“That’s so good.” He said. All you could do was nod your head, your mouth stuffed. “Pizza, ice cream, now funnel cake? We’re on a roll.”

You finished chewing. “After this we should get some…carrots or something.”

He scrunched his face. “Disgusting. Never mention vegetables again.”

“Strawberries?” You suggested.

“Fruit can stay. Vegetables, though? Don’t talk about them when I have this in front of me.” His eyes got wide. “We should have got strawberries on this.”

You laughed at his expression. He looked like he had solved an unsolvable puzzle. “Well, if you’re not happy with it,” you pulled the plate towards yourself, “I could just-“

Steve put his hand on the edge of the plate, stopping you. “I will cut your hand off.”

“How could I compete with one hand?” You asked, acting offended.

He shrugged, a playful look on his face. “Just do the trampolines.”

You pointed your finger at him. “True. I’m gonna have another bite, if my hand can stay attached.”

“Go for it.” He said.

It was easy to sit there with him, the sound of people having fun filling your ears and the smell of sweet foods coming from every direction. There was no awkwardness, just the occasional word or two exchanged as you scarfed down the funnel cake.

When there were only a few bites left, you said, “Maybe we should have gotten two. I want more.”

“At some point,” he said, “we do have to consider, you know, our profession.”

You groaned. “Stupid sports.”

He gave you a closed mouth laugh as he chewed. Looking down, you saw the white flakes of powdered sugar decorating his pants. He noticed where you were looking and laughed when he saw it. “Hey, these are really messy. Don’t judge.” He swiped the power off.

When there was nothing left on the plate, you got up and threw it away. As the two of you began to walk off, Steve stopped.

“Hey, you got some…” he pointed to your hair, and you picked up a few strands and examined them. “No, here…” He reached for the hair beside your cheek, his hand brushing against your skin. When he pulled his hand away, he rubbed his fingers together to rid them of the mess.

“Powdered sugar.” He said. You nodded in understanding. “See? They’re messy.”

You didn’t know why you couldn’t get any words to come out. All you could you was nod your head.

When you resumed walking, that light and easy feeling between you, at least on your end, was replaced with awkwardness. You couldn’t find anything to say. Steve seemed unbothered, looking around at your surroundings as you made your way throughout the carnival. As you walked together, arms at your sides, the feeling of Steve’s fingers momentarily brushing against yours sent a jolt of energy up your arm and into your chest. It was all you could do to look unaffected.

It was strange, though. Technically, you’d held hands with Steve before, that night at the bar. But he had been comforting you and you were distracted by the anxiety that Rumlow brought upon you.

You found it hard to look at him now, like something in you was embarrassed, or that he could hear your thoughts and was inwardly laughing at you. Your expression managed to remain impassive, but you were anything but.

“Hey, look.” Steve said, jolting you back to your surroundings. He was pointing to a stage where a band was playing music. A slow song was playing, and people were coupled up, swaying back and forth slowly, some engaging in conversation, some silently holding each other.

“Yeah.” That was all you could say.

“Do you dance?” he asked you.

You shook your head. “Not really. Do you?”

“I don’t really know how.”

“Well, we’re gymnasts. It can’t be too different, especially if you’re just…swaying.”

He nodded his head once. “Good point.” He turned to you then, a glint of an idea in his eye. “Wanna test that theory?”

You began to stammer. “I – I don’t know…”

He laughed then, grabbing your hand, and the feeling from earlier returned, now multiplied by one hundred. “Come on.”

He dragged you over to the small crowd of dancers, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him. Your hands were still attached, and he held them in position as he placed his free hand on your back and you put yours on his shoulder.

“I’ll try not to step on your toes.” He said, smiling at you, and you couldn’t help but give him one of your own.

The two of you moved to the slow music, and you found yourself with your head down, staring at his shirt, the intimacy of looking directly in his eyes at such proximity being too, well, intimate. It didn’t help that you were holding each other.

“This isn’t too bad.” He said.

“Maybe you should be a dancer instead of a gymnast.” Your voice was quiet. If you talked to loud, you were afraid your emotions would be heard behind your words.

You could feel his laughter. Your body responded by tightening your hand around his, not too hard, but enough to be noticed. He didn’t say anything.

The band switched to another slow song. Something in you wanted them to play something fast, but something else wanted them to continue as they were.

“It’s strange.” Steve suddenly said.

You raised your head slightly, not enough to be looking up at him. “What?”

He took a deep breath. Was he nervous?

“A month ago, we could barely stand each other. Now…” he gave a breathy laugh, “we’re dancing under the stars.”

You looked up at him again, and you realized two things – that there were flecks of green in his blue eyes, and that you thought they were beautiful.

“And…” he added, “there’s no one else I’d rather be here with.”

You realized a third thing. If you were to kiss him, he would taste like funnel cake.

Your gaze drifted to his mouth. You could tell he was looking at you, but where his eyes were pointed, you couldn’t see. It felt like everything around you faded away. All that was left was you, Steve, and the now distant sound of a sweet melody.

“Isn’t that nice?”

The voice was a sharp and unwelcome sound amid such a soft and enchanting moment, cutting its way into the world that felt like it was just beginning to form around you. You reluctantly tore your gaze away from the comforting sight of Steve’s lips and saw your source of complete and utter discomfort for the last month standing there with a stupid grin on his face.

“What are you doing here?” You made sure your voice was sharp to match.

Rumlow shrugged. “Enjoying the carnival, which looks to be what you two are doing too.”

You felt Steve’s relaxed demeanor turn taught. Your left hand dropped to your side and out of Steve’s hold, but as your right hand slid from his shoulder, his other hand was still on your back.

“Well, it would be nice if you could enjoy it somewhere else.” You said, narrowing your eyes.

“Come on, you don’t have to be like that.”

“I think she wants you to go.” Steve’s voice was firm. You could hear the anger beginning to build in his words.

Rumlow’s gaze on Steve was harsh. “I think she can speak for herself.” 

Steve’s laugh was without humor. “Because you respect her so much, right?”

“Steve’s right.” You spoke before Rumlow could give another remark. “I do want you to go.”

“So, you didn’t like my gift?” Rumlow’s voice made you want to crawl into a ball and disappear.

“The trash can enjoyed it very much.” You said. If Steve was trying to hide a smile, you noticed it anyway.

Rumlow did smile, but there was nothing funny or happy about it.

“Leave me alone.” You said, finality in your words.

“Alright.” He said, backing away. “But I want you to remember something.”

You felt Steve’s thumb rub comforting circles against your back as you watched Rumlow back off.

“You loved me before you hated me.”

When he disappeared into the crowd, you let out a long, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said. You could tell he meant it, but you shook your head. He had nothing to be sorry for.

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

He nodded, eyes filled with understanding. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

So, you headed home, and when you were standing in front of your apartment doors, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around Steve, standing on your toes as your face burrowed into his neck.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You said, your voice slightly muffled. “I had fun. I really did.” But you were grateful for so much more than a fun time. When you pulled away and looked up at him, he was looking at you with a fondness that made you want to hold him all over again.

“I’m sorry Rumlow ruined it.” He sounded like he meant it.

You shook your head. “No, he didn’t.”

Steve smiled abashedly, lowering his head, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

Why was your heart beating so fast? It was too loud. You worried that if Steve got too close, he’d hear it.

“Do you…” he started. “If you aren’t feeling good, you know, after that, I could come in, or if you’d rather be alone that’s-“

_Please_.

“I’m tired.” You answered. It’s not what you wanted to say. “I’m gonna go to bed. Thank you, though.”

Steve nodded. You wondered if it was disappointment that flashed across his face.

You didn’t know why you denied his offer. You wanted him to come inside. You wanted him right next to you. And you realized that maybe that was exactly why you wouldn’t let him.

“Goodnight.” You said, yet you made no effort to go inside.

Steve stepped closer, and when his hand reached the side of your face and you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, you were overwhelmed with an emotion you couldn’t explain. He whispered a goodnight and before you could embarrass yourself by ogling at him, you forced yourself to unlock your door and step inside.

When you realized your back was pressed to your door like a lovestruck teenager after their first date, you whispered to your empty apartment.

“Crap.”


	6. Chapter 6

You skipped your run the next morning. The thought of seeing Steve sent a wave of panic though you. Something had changed in you, towards him. Or maybe nothing had changed at all. Maybe you just became aware of how you felt.

Which was exactly why you were keen on avoiding him.

It couldn’t last too long, though. You lived right next to each other, had the same friends, and went to the same gym. So, you had to remind yourself as you stretched on the mat with Sharon and Natasha that Steve was going to walk through the door any minute.

“What’s on your mind?” Natasha asked, noticing your wallowing.

“Nosy friends.” You made sure to smile so she knew you were joking, but you knew she could see right through you.

Her line of sight moved to behind you.

“Captain’s here.” She said. Was she smiling?

She probably was, seeing that you whipped your head to the side at super-speed to see Steve walking in, Sam jumping over to him and immediately putting him into a friendly headlock. Steve’s gym bag fell to the floor as he laughed.

You really, really, liked his laugh. And his smile. You always had, you knew that, but the thought struck you differently this time.

You were definitely staring. And you found yourself not wanting to look away.

When Sam released him, his eyes found yours. He smiled at you as if you hadn’t had a giant epiphany and felt like the world was spinning under your feet. You couldn’t help but think it was because nothing had changed for him, that it was just you whose heartbeat got a little faster at the sight of the other person. You looked down then, turning back towards Nat and Sharon. You felt their eyes on you, but you said nothing.

It wasn’t long before Steve was standing beside the three of you, hands on his hips casually and a kind smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said to the trio. But he held your gaze the longest.

Nat and Sharon muttered their hellos, but you could only bring yourself to form a halfhearted smile before averting your eyes.

“Missed you this morning.” He said, nudging your knee with his foot. Sharon and Natasha gave each other a look that reminded you of highschoolers watching drama unfold.

“Didn’t wanna run today.” You said simply.

“Got a breakfast pizza instead?” He asked.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, but you couldn’t find any words to say.

Steve looked at you like he was trying to analyze something. “I’m gonna go do some exercises with Sam.” He walked back a few steps, looking between the three of you. “Have fun stretching.”

As Steve turned and walked towards Sam, Sharon shouted, “You stretch too!”

“I will!” he called back to her.

You brought your knees towards your chest, arms resting on them and your chin laying on your arms.

“What’s up?” Sharon asked you.

You just shrugged.

“Would it happen to be about a certain blond haired, muscular, former foe?” Natasha asked. She was definitely smiling.

“Foe?” You asked, ignoring the question. “Who says foe?”

“She says foe.” Sharon said.

“I say foe.” Nat retorted.

You waved your hands dramatically. “Stop saying foe.”

“You stop ignoring the question.” Natasha gave you a pointed look.

You blew air out of your mouth, putting your head between your knees, before looking back up and saying, “Maybe.”

“He said he missed you.” She said.

“Common courtesy.”

All she gave you was a curious “hmm”.

When you were done at the gym, Steve caught up with you and asked if you wanted to go get lunch, but you declined. You weren’t sure if you saw a look of disappointment on his face or if you just wanted to.

You felt terrible, for him, and for you. He didn’t do anything. And you wanted to be around him and to talk to him. But the emotions that were swirling around inside you made it hard to be near him for an extended period, keeping conversation as you had throughout your developing friendship. Sometimes you trained together. That was a bit easier, but so much harder at the same time. You could talk about gymnastics stuff, that was easy, but when he put his hand on your back while helping you with your posture or clasped your hand, bringing you off the ground when you fell, it felt complicated again.

The Olympics got closer and closer, and Sharon had made plans for you all to take a vacation to a cabin for some time off and to have some fun before the stress of the competition.

You weren’t stressed about the games, though. You were stressed about the fact that you’d be in a cabin with Steve for a few days. Then again, you’d have the rest of the group, and it couldn’t be that different from him living behind your living room wall.

Maybe you could keep your emotions at bay for a few days and act normal again.

“Should I pack my brown pants or my jeans?” Steve asked, holding an article of clothing in each hand. “Or both?”

Sam and Bucky answered at the same time.

“Brown.”

“Jeans.”

Sam threw out his arm, gesturing to the suitcase lying on Steve’s bed. “He’s got three pairs of jeans in there. Go with the brown.”

Bucky pointed at the jeans. “Jeans are classic.”

Steve wanted to roll his eyes at them, but in a fond way. “Sam’s got a point.”

“That’s right.” Sam looked pleased.

“Bucky does too.” Steve added.

Bucky gave a single clap of his hands. “Ha!”

“I’ll take both.”

“I’ve seen you wear the same pants three days in a row.” Sam said. “Why do you need so many all of a sudden?”

Steve shrugged, mumbling.

“Maybe because he wants to look good in front of a certain someone.” Bucky was trying to hide a smile, but not trying hard enough. Steve paid a lot of attention to his suitcase, avoiding their eyes. Packing was so interesting at that very moment.

“Is that right?” Sam asked, his voice lifting in a Lets-embarrass-my-best-friend kind of way. “I wonder who it is.”

“I think it’s his new best friend, you know, cute, great gymnast, better than Steve at everything.” Bucky was not trying to hide the smile anymore.

Steve waved his hand at them. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Did you hear something?” Sam asked. Bucky laughed in return.

“Very funny.” Steve said, not amused as he put the pants in his suitcase. He paused, his hand still inside. “You think she’s cute?”

Bucky and Sam shared a look. Unlike Steve, they were very amused.

“Is that a problem?” Bucky asked. Sam pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

“You can like whoever you want.” Steve said simply, but he stuffed his shirt into his suitcase with a little extra force.

“He never said he liked her.” Sam was just as bad at hiding his amusement as Bucky was.

“I said she was cute.”

“He said she was cute.” Sam repeated Bucky in the same tone.

“Do you think she’s cute?” Bucky asked.

“Do _you_ think she’s cute?” Steve retorted.

Bucky laughed. “That’s what I said!”

Steve turned his attention to Sam, but he spoke before Steve could. “Yes, she’s cute. Don’t ask me.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “Forgot my toothbrush.”

“Nice save, Rogers!” Sam shouted after him as he took off. He could hear Bucky and Sam talking to each other as he left.

In the bathroom, Steve grabbed his forgotten toothbrush. Looking in the mirror, he blew air out of his mouth as he tapped the brush anxiously against his hand. There was something about you that got him all flustered and confused now, and Sam and Bucky could tell. Steve put on a stoic face as he went back to join them in his room and wordlessly put his toothbrush into his suitcase.

“Steve,” Sam said, his tone changing from before. “You know we’re here for you.”

“I know.” Steve tapped his fingers against the material.

“We can tell she makes you happy, whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you.” Bucky said.

Steve sighed. “I don’t even know what’s going on between us.” At their curious looks, he continued. “She’s been kind of distant lately. We were getting along really well, now she hardly speaks to me.”

“Have you tried asking her about it?” Sam inquired.

“I don’t get enough time with her to even ask her.”

“Ask her at the cabin.” Bucky suggested. “Or just…ask her how she is.”

Steve thought about the night of the carnival, how perfect, aside from Rumlow, that it was. Things were great between the two of you, but by the next day it started going sideways. He wondered what he could have done to cause the rift.

He thought about your dance, how close your faces were, how for a second it felt like you wanted to kiss him.

Remembering that he did kiss you on the cheek, his chest felt like it was twisting in on itself. Did he overstep his boundaries? Maybe you were uncomfortable with that. After everything that’s happened with Rumlow, that was not how he wanted to make you feel.

“I’ve noticed how good of friends you have become lately.” Sam said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I think everyone has. Just talk to her.”

Sam was right. And if it was the kiss that caused this, he had some apologizing to do.

You, Sharon, and Natasha arrived at the cabin before the rest of them. It was beautiful, a light brown color that complemented the green trees surrounding it. Behind the house was a thin layer of forest, a big lake peeking through the trees. It was the perfect place to relax, to forget about training and to unwind for once. But with your current situation, it didn’t seem like you’d get any relaxing done while you were there.

If the outside of the cabin was stunning, then the interior could render someone speechless. A big, brick fireplace sat in the living room, comfortable couches placed in front of it with a television mounted on the wall. There were a set of stairs, more like a ladder, really, that led up to a room above the kitchen, half of it open and in view from downstairs and the other half hidden behind a wall. You presumed there was a bedroom or an office up there. 

The wood of the walls and the lights overhead evoked such a warm and welcoming feeling that you wished it was cold outside. It reminded you of that cliché image of a girl wrapped up in a cozy sweater, hot drink in hand as she stares out into the snowy woods beyond the window.

Cold weather was perfect for cuddling…

“What do you think?” Sharon’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You smiled kindly at her. She was the one to put this vacation together, and she had done a great job. “I think it’s amazing.”

“You outdid yourself.” Natasha said, head tilted upwards as she looked at the wooden ceiling.

Sharon smiled, clasping her hands together happily.

“What’s that room up there?” You asked, pointing up the set of stairs.

“I think it’s a bedroom.” She answered. “There’s that room, then there’s two other rooms downstairs.”

You quickly made your way to the ladder, climbing up and emerging into a room with tall ceilings slanted upwards into a triangle, a nearly floor-to-ceiling window of the same shape giving you a view of the forest.

“I call this room!” You shouted.

You looked down and saw Sharon and Natasha climbing up the ladder. When they were completely inside the room, they seemed to be just as impressed as you were.

“No fair.” Natasha almost pouted.

“One of the downstairs rooms has two bunk-beds and the other has two twin beds. I should have called this one, but I didn’t know how pretty it was.” Sharon ran her hands along the wall as she observed the room.

“That window is stunning.” Natasha said.

Sharon’s phone buzzed.

“Sam just texted me that they are pulling up now.” She said before descending the stairs, you and Natasha trailing behind her.

When the three of you stepped out the front door, they were pulling into the driveway. Sam and Bucky got out of the front, shouting out their greetings. Sharon went up to them and engulfed them both in a hug.

Sam made an _oof_ sound. “Well, we love you too Miss Carter.”

You were so busy being amused at the sight of Sharon crushing the large men in a hug, Steve’s voice startled you a little.

“Alright, alright I’ll join in.”

When he exaggeratedly wrapped his arms around the three friends he was met with a chorus of remarks.

“Get outta here!” Bucky shouted, laughing.

“WHOSE man is this?” said Sam.

“Who invited you?” Sharon yelled.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Leave him alone.” Natasha said, giving him a hug. “It’s hard being the most annoying person in the room all the time.”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “Come on, Romanoff!”

You all laughed at him, obviously in good fun.

Steve pointed at you. “You appreciate me, right?” The smile on his face was playful, but there was something in his expression that you felt like you couldn’t interpret.

“It varies.” You kept your response playful as well. This was no time for expressing emotions.

He pursed his lips cutely, bowing his head a little.

Sam cleared his throat. “If y’all are done, Steve, we have bags to unload.”

He was just messing with Steve, but you couldn’t help but think about it as the three of them got their bags. Did the rest of them see that exchange as a moment between you and Steve, or something like that? Or maybe you were just concerned that they could read the emotions on your face as if they were tattooed on across your skin.

As you all made yourself at home, you didn’t talk much. You were aware of the lingering stares Steve threw your way, and a surge of guilt pulsed in you. Surely, he’d noticed that you were pushing him away. How couldn’t he? You’d been exceptionally distant the past couple of weeks. At some point, you needed to have an actual conversation with him.

You stared out the window of the living room, absentmindedly watching the green leaves on the branches swaying in the wind. The sound of conversations came from the rest of the house. You had to stop your fingers from tapping anxiously against your arms that were wrapped around your torso.

You wondered how obvious your brooding was to everyone else.

When the sun was almost ready to set for the night and the rays of light casted a golden glow against the green outdoors, you all took advantage of the beautiful weather and spent some time in the backyard, which sat just before the forest that lead to the lake.

Steve and Sam were throwing a frisbee back and forth and Sam made sure to yell at Steve every time he dropped it.

“You can swing and flip from bars and land on your feet, but you can’t catch a frisbee?”

Bucky was carrying Natasha on his back and chasing after Sharon. And then there was you. You were sitting on the hammock, your feet on the ground, using it more so as a chair as you watched your friends have a good time.

You put your elbows on your knees and held your head with your hands, staring at your shoes as you played with the blades of grass with your feet. A red frisbee bouncing against your feet made you look up.

“Can you toss that over here?” Sam called to you. Steve was looking at you now.

You got the frisbee and stood up, and even though you aimed it at Sam, it curved in Steve’s direction. He caught it.

“Now you catch it.” Sam said, then he turned towards you. “He’s not medaling in frisbee, as we can see.”

“I’m–“ Steve began to defend himself, then mumbled something you couldn’t really make out. Dis-something? Distracted? He looked down, twirling the frisbee around in his hands.

“Well, neither would I.” You said. “I aimed it towards you.”

Sam sucked in air through his teeth. “Looks like I’m the champion here, then.”

“Champion of what?” Bucky said, Natasha jumping down from his back. “Being annoying?”

Sam threw his head back in a sarcastic laugh. “That’s your title, man, not mine.”

Bucky smiled, shaking his head.

Sam made his voice high. “Bucky you sucky.”

Your laugh was a ridiculous sound. Bucky rolled his eyes, Sharon was pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, and Natasha was pinching the bridge of her nose, her smile peaking out from under her hand. Steve stood there, hands on his lips and face towards the ground. His smile was closed mouthed and a little distant.

You really needed to talk to him.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve stood with his back and his palms pressed against the counter as Sam and Natasha cooked dinner with the ingredients they brought from home. It was nothing too fancy, as far as Steve could tell. He had been originally tasked with assisting Sam with cutting up vegetables, but his mind was somewhere else. Sam could tell and shooed him away.

After hanging out outside, everyone came back in to cool down and relax. Steve had watched as you quickly and wordlessly made your way up the ladder into your room.

You were still being weird around him. This really shouldn’t have bothered Steve so much, considering you used to dislike him, so it’s not like it was strange for you to be acting off. But the thing was that it was strange. You’d become friends, though it felt bigger than that. There was something special there, but Steve couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. What he did know, was that he wanted things to go back to how they were when the two of you were on good terms.

He was thinking about the way your eyes looked in the glow of the lights at the fair when a hand appeared in front of his own, snapping at him to get his attention.

“Are you there?” Sam asked, waving a hand near Steve’s face.

“Yeah.” Steve coughed. “Is there, uh, is there anything I can help with?”

“Actually, there is.” Natasha said.

Steve looked at her.

“You can go talk to her.” Natasha’s voice was soft, non-teasing, but her lips lifted upwards if only a little bit.

Steve blew a deep breath out of his mouth, bowing his head down.

“You’re really obvious, man.” Sam said, back turned to them as he tended to the food.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve’s voice was sarcastic, but not hostile.

“I’m here all day.”

Natasha inclined her head in the direction of the back door, telling him she’d seen you go that way. Steve gave her a look before heading off that way and emerging into the warm, evening air. He looked around the backyard, not seeing you on the hammock or anywhere else, so he set off towards the trees. At the other edge of the thin forest, he looked at the dock that stretched out onto the lake and thought he could see the silhouette of someone sitting at the edge. He took a deep breath before making his way forward.

The sky was purple now, and now that you were out in the country rather than the city you could see stars begin to twinkle like little fireflies. You were sitting on the edge of the dock that lead out to the lake, legs crossed.

You were glad Sharon had planned this trip, even though you were making it difficult by isolating yourself. The beautiful expanse of nature before you wasn’t something you got to see every day.

The sound of footsteps coming towards you told you that you weren’t alone. 

“Hey.” Steve’s voice. 

“Hey.”

He waited a moment before speaking again. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

Out of your peripheral, you saw him sit down a few feet away from you. His hands were in his lap and it looked like he was playing around with his fingers. Was he nervous?

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but…” he blew out a sigh. “Are you……. upset? With me?”

You jerked your head towards him in surprise. “Upset? With you?”

“Well, I, uh,” he said. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me, and I just…I wanna apologize.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. What could he have to apologize to you for?

“What for?”

“I know you have all these issues about Rumlow…” he started. You looked at him expectantly, but curious. “And I didn’t really take that into consideration when I, um, kissed you. On the cheek! And I don’t know what your boundaries are and I should have made sure that that was okay and-“

He stopped rambling at the sound of your chuckling. He looked confused. You shouldn’t have been laughing, especially because your avoiding him clearly had put him through an angsty amount of speculating what he could have done wrong, but the fact that that was what he was worried about was the sweetest, most endearing, Steve Rogers thing you had ever heard of.

“Steve,” you said, reaching over to lean towards him, your hand placed against the dock. “I’m not upset with you. Not at all. And definitely not because of that.”

A look of absolute relief washed over his face, and now you did let yourself feel bad for putting him through so much worrying. But the expression was soon replaced with another look of confusion.

“If you’re not mad, then why have you been distant?” He was looking at you with the most concerned puppy dog eyes that you could physically feel your heart yearning. “Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath through your nose, before letting it back out. How do you explain that you were avoiding someone because you liked them so much?

“I’m just…” You tried to find words that could explain how you were feeling without having to bear your emotions to him and embarrass yourself completely. “Overwhelmed? With a lot of things. But believe me, I am not mad at you. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I should have just asked sooner.”

You scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around him in a side hug, ignoring the way it made you feel. He grabbed your arm with his hands, resting his chin on it and rubbing his thumbs against your skin.

“So…” Steve said. “Kissing’s okay, then? On the-!” He started laughing nervously. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” You highlighted the fact with a kiss on his cheek. And do you know what he had the audacity to do in response?

The monster giggled.

This six-foot, could-rip-a-log-in-half, Olympic gymnast just giggled because you kissed him. And he seemed to realize that he sounded like a literal nine-year-old because he threw his head back in an embarrassed fashion as you, still with your arms on him in a lingering hug, laughed your butt off.

He had no response to defend himself with, so he sat there and took your laughter, joining in with you.

As you sat with an embarrassed Steve above a glittering lake and under a now dark blue sky, you felt happier than you’d been since the night you were dancing under the same stars.

When the two of you came in the back door of the cabin together, laughing at some inside joke only meant for you, you were too busy to notice the looks your friends gave each other. You were even oblivious to Sam, sitting in a big leather recliner, reaching his hand over to the couch Bucky was sitting on, his palm facing upwards as Bucky gave it a victorious but subtle smack.

“Look who’s finally back.” Natasha said.

You looked at everyone, who were sitting on the furniture and looking up at you with amused expressions.

“Did you eat already?” You asked.

“Yeah!” Sam said. “Hunger doesn’t wait.”

“We made you plates.” Natasha said. “You might need to heat it up a little.”

Steve laughed to himself, shaking his head, and headed towards the kitchen. You followed.

When you had heated your food up and were getting something to drink, Steve sat on the floor with his back against the cabinets, plate in his lap.

“What are you doing?” You asked through a laugh.

“I’m not sitting with them.” He chuckled. “They didn’t come get us when it was ready. I need time to recover from that.”

You nodded. “Good idea.”

You got your plate and sat down against the other wall. Steve’s face lit up.

“We’ll have a private dinner.” Something in the way he said those words made you feel butterflies in your stomach. How were you supposed to eat when they were flying around in there?

Steve held out his fork towards you, and you dinged your own against his in a makeshift cheers.

As you two sat there and ate, you realized that fancy dinner dates in high-end restaurants could never compare to the intimacy and the comfort of sitting with someone on the kitchen floor, talking and laughing like you’ve been best friends your whole lives. You felt so stupid, suddenly, for ignoring him for the past few weeks. All this time you’d spent brooding when you could have had experiences like these.

“What?” Steve asked, smile on his face and his head tilted to the side.

Crap. Were you staring?

“I…I um…” You stuttered, pressing your hand to your forehead. “I was just…” You put your elbow on your leg, pressing your palm under your chin before changing your hand to a fist that rested against your cheek. “How did we get here?”

Steve looked at you, his eyes telling you to continue with what you were saying.

“We just…” You paused, pressing your lips together before continuing. “Why weren’t we friends before? It feels so stupid now.”

Steve shrugged. “We were stupid.”

You laughed because it was true.

“Well, I was stupid for being so distant and weird.” You said. Steve shook his head subtly. “And I’m sorry.”

“I told you, you don’t have to apologize.”

Steve was okay with it, but you still couldn’t help but feel bad for punishing him because of your own feelings. You stared at your lap, playing with your hands.

“What are you doing?” You looked up to see Sam staring at the two of you on the floor.

“Eating dinner.” You replied.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you weirdos.” He maneuvered over to the refrigerator. “I’m getting some ice cream.”

“What flavor did you get?” You asked. You couldn’t help but think back to the night Steve brought you ice cream and stayed on your couch.

“Vanilla.”

You made a face. “Boring.”

“Bucky got it.” Sam said it as if it were an explanation.

“Vanilla’s a classic,” Bucky’s voice caused Sam to spin around, “just like blue jeans.”

“Man, how do you always show up out of nowhere?”

Bucky ignored him, his attention turning towards you and Steve and a look of confusion furrowing his brow. “What are you doing on the floor?”

You leaned your head back against the cabinets, sharing a smiley look with Steve.


End file.
